


stellar

by sushishorts



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff without Plot, M/M, and kuroo's in a band, i needed an excuse for kenma to write, in which kenma loves to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 12:14:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5090345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sushishorts/pseuds/sushishorts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s not that long,” Kenma said as if it would sway Kuroo’s love for the unread poem. “It probably isn’t good.”</p>
<p>“I bet it is,” Kuroo shrugged before pressing a soft kiss on Kenma’s knuckles, and oh, how his eyes sparkled at that. An inspiration, probably. (<i>How soft met chapped wasn’t entirely unpleasant / because textures didn’t matter to me at all / but is it weird if I felt like a present / waiting to be unwrapped at his very call?</i>) “Read it to me?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	stellar

“I wrote you a poem.”

“Oh yeah?”

And Pudding Head stood on the bed with a paper in tow, the other hand holding on Kuroo’s for support. It wasn’t rare for Kenma to write him things but he had always liked how it felt in general, how his words were eccentric and lovely at the same time. He wasn’t sure if it was the normal terms to describe writing in general, but Kenma had never been the normal kind.

Kenma was, in a way, a ghost. He was the kind that didn’t beg for your attention, but you could always feel him around you. He stared a lot, probably to observe. He liked writing them down because it overwhelmed his sensations most of the time. And Kuroo was often an inspiration.

Kenma cleared his throat to take Kuroo back to reality. In the shared apartment they have, it was easy to get lost in his thoughts since there wasn’t much around to drag you to reality. The apartment was quaint, but Kenma liked it that way. Kuroo did, too. It often brought Kenma outside. (His Animal Crossing and Love Live addiction was a force to be reckoned with.)

“It’s not that long,” Kenma said as if it would sway Kuroo’s love for the unread poem. “It probably isn’t good.”

“I bet it is,” Kuroo shrugged before pressing a soft kiss on Kenma’s knuckles, and oh, how his eyes sparkled at that. An inspiration, probably. ( _How soft met chapped wasn’t entirely unpleasant / because textures didn’t matter to me at all / but is it weird if I felt like a present / waiting to be unwrapped at his very call_?) “Read it to me?”

“Okay,” the other said with a small nod. “Okay, just give me a second.”

 

 

There was one time Kuroo found Kenma staring out the window when he came home from a gig. He was in a band with his old volleyball friends, and as much as he would invite Kenma along to their gigs, he never went to any of it. He said it was too loud, and he never fit in with the crowd.

_But that’s the point_ , Kuroo wanted to say. _I wanted to see only you._ But he knew better than drop cheesy lines on someone like Kenma. (The way his eyes rolled was deadly.)

Kuroo joined him by the window and greeted him with a kiss on his hair, and Kenma didn’t bat an eyelash at his presence. Sometimes, Kuroo had to share Kenma to everything in the world. His eyes were fixated elsewhere, everywhere. The clouded view of the moon, the way the lights shone over the city and how it became the stars they failed to see every night.

Kuroo waited.

 

 

 

It all ended with Kenma on Kuroo’s lap because Kenma got too shy to read it out loud. As much as he was proud of his work, he was also afraid of it, Kuroo knew. He asked him once why, and all Kenma answered was a shrug. But he knew why, felt it somehow; Kenma was afraid that he couldn’t convey half of what he perceived.

But now that Kuroo has Kenma trapped in his arms around his waist, there was no reason for Kenma to be afraid. He could feel the heat from his face radiating on his chest and he could only kiss the back of Kenma’s neck as an assurance. _I want to listen._

Kenma breathed in.

  

_Being with you_   
_is like letting myself free_   
_from the confines of reality_   
_because everything_   
_about you_   
_is so unnaturally perfect_

_Living with you_   
_is a constant rearranging_   
_of furniture and plates_   
_because we never_   
_get the vibe right_   
_to be considered “home”_   
_but in the end_   
_where is home_   
_as long as_   
_you are the face_   
_I wake up to_   
_and the smile_   
_I sleep to_

_But the best part is_   
_being with you_   
_is sunshine compressed_   
_into a box for_   
_my own consumption_   
_but as dark_   
_as the name you hold_   
_I’ve always preferred_   
_the night from day_   
_and I’d much rather_   
_leave this box closed_   
_if it meant_   
_being with you_

 

He wasn’t expecting the tears.

He wasn’t expecting much from Kenma at all, because falling in love with someone like him was like falling in love with someone with a wife. You can never tie him down. But every time Kenma wrote about him he just falls apart; he could never imagine that Kenma would actually think about him long enough, let alone write about him.

“Kuroo,” Kenma cooed when he turned to face him, and he tried hiding his tears by burying his face on Kenma’s shoulder as he pulled him in an embrace, but Kenma was kissing his tear-ridden face and nothing could ever feel as amazing. “Are you okay?”

“I’m stellar,” Kuroo said with a laugh, tears still forming in his eyes. Kenma inched closer and kissed them away. How do you explain the overwhelming feeling of happiness and love? He was never the kind who was good with expressing himself, that’s why he had the band. If only Kenma could hear him live, then maybe he could give back at least half of what he was feeling right now. Maybe.

“Should I stop writing you poems?” Kenma asked, as if the only thing the poem did was cause Kuroo pain, and Kuroo answered “no” as fast as he could. It was funny how afraid Kenma was of initial reactions towards his work; he never realized how good they were in general.

“No,” Kuroo shook his head. “I couldn’t ask for more from you.”

“You should. Ask, I mean. I get lonely when you leave me alone for me to do my own thing.”

Kuroo wanted to explain, but his emotions were running high, and all he could say was, “Go to my gig, then?” and Kenma could only sigh before nodding.

 

 

Kenma wasn’t the kind who broke promises, but that night’s gig was coming to an end, but the pudding-head was nowhere in sight. While Kuroo couldn’t bring himself to get mad, he was definitely disappointed. Still, he greeted the crowd as cheerfully as he could.

“Are you still with us?” Kuroo asked the audience. There were around fifty people in the crowd and they all answered with enthusiasm. Bokuto was already leading up to their last song, and Oikawa was backing him up with the keyboards. Akaashi took the off time to drink some water and rest his vocals, passing the bottle around. “This last song was supposed to be for an important person in my life, but I don’t think they made it.”  There as a sad response from the crowd, but Kuroo shrugged it off with a grin. “I’m sure my feelings have reached them somehow. So here’s our last song!”

 

 

If there was something Kenma hated the most, it was being late.

But the bus he was riding broke down ten blocks from where Kuroo’s gig was being held, and he wasn’t much of a runner himself, so it took him a long time before he reached the place. By the time he entered, the band was down to their fifth and last song, and as he expected from before, he was overwhelmed.

He didn’t want to go to Kuroo’s gigs because he knew how it would be, riffs and guitar wailing in a steady rate, accompanied by various instruments in perfect sync. Kuroo’s singing voice had always been one of Kenma’s favorite things, so before his legs gave out, he leaned by the door with the hopes that Kuroo could see him.

And Kuroo did.

(Kenma took a mental note of how it went: eyes widening in surprise, a smile he couldn’t remove from his lips, and a simple gesture that asked him to move closer. Kenma refused; he honestly couldn’t take another step.)

It was all too real, anyway; how the crowd moved to the music, a simple sway that swept along through the dance floor. The lights were dimmed down that showed Kuroo's face with very angular shadows. It was flattering, in a way. Kuroo looked extremely cool.

“Sorry,” Kenma mouthed through the crowd. Kuroo shrugged on stage but continued to smile.

_I can see you lie low / Keeping to your hiding / Call it reaction / To your denying / You can say what you want but I’m giving it a chance / You can say what you want but I’m giving it a chance_

 

 

Kenma never missed another gig. Kuroo never missed another poem.

**Author's Note:**

> the song is the paper kite's "revelator eyes"
> 
> first fic in this account, hopefully not the last :')


End file.
